Then Why Not Pretend
by Anonymonimus
Summary: Bill sat in the darkness of Ford's lab and stared at the skeleton of the machine he and Stan were building. When Stan offers comfort a heat of the moment decision leads to a mistake both would rather forget.
**This story takes place between the events of "The Executioner's Song" and "What Is and Should Never Be".**

* * *

Bill sat in the darkness of Ford's lab and stared at the skeleton of the machine he and Stan were building. They had agreed to stop working for the day. The human was old and needed time to rest and recuperate. Though Stan had refused Bill's offer to return him to his youthful state, the demon had done so anyways. He had been subtle about it to avoid angering the other man but the seemingly small difference he had made had given fantastic results. The progress they were making on their machine was astounding and soon Ford would be back.

 _Ford…_

Bill had nearly gone insane when he found himself powerless to retrieve his lover's soul from the Void. Though it hadn't been his first time failing in an endeavour, it was the first time his failure was attributed to something out of his power. When he had been enemies with the Pines, he knew that he could have bested them had he gone about the situation in a different manner. His failures hadn't been for lack of intelligence or strength. He could have accomplished everything he had set his mind to had he not made idiotic mistakes, which he assumed entirely – but considering what transpired afterwards, he supposed his mistakes hadn't been so unfortunate. Regardless, the fact remained that this was the first time where Bill had been beaten with elements beyond his power. It didn't matter that he had potentially found a loop hole into entering the Void, _he_ wasn't strong enough to do it himself and nor was any other being – aside from a Grim Reaper, of course. He was left to hope his idea would work.

God, he missed Ford so much and it had only been a little over two months. Time was simultaneously passing by rapidly and oh so slowly it was almost painful. It was certainly maddening. The demon felt as though a hole had been punctured in his heart and it might as well have been literal because it definitely felt that way. The pain of Ford's absence brought about so many delusions – Bill had lost count of the many times he somehow mistook Stan for his twin. He had never realised until then how some of their mannerism were so similar. Even their voice sounded alike – more so than he had ever noticed before.

"Hey."

Bill jerked his head up and glanced towards Stan. For a brief second he looked a lot like Ford, but perhaps only because he had been thinking about him. The illusion faded quickly. _Unfortunately_.

"Hi." He answered stiffly and looked back at the machine in the making.

Stan unexpectedly took a seat next to him. They sat in a silence that was slowly becoming unbearable. From the corner of his eye, the man's silhouette morphed into Ford. His heart gave painful throbs and he refused to correct the image his brain was conjuring because it would hurt so much more. Bill was getting agitated all the same. What he would give to touch Ford again…

"You shouldn't stay down here all the time." Stan eventually said, breaking the delusion Bill was permitting to trick him. "You should come upstairs and get some fresh air."

"Later." Bill muttered quietly.

"Look, my brother really wouldn't approve of your behaviour." Stan tried.

"Sixer's not here." Bill reminded sharply. His words stuttered Stan into silence again as though he had slapped him in the face. Perhaps he had been too harsh.

"What's this going to do?" Stan continued to argue after a long pause, "Are you making progress on your own by staring at it like that? Just come upstairs, go outside for a bit, and drink some of that tea you obsessively bought and/or probably stole the past year."

Bill said nothing. Stan was starting to sound like Ford and he wasn't sure he liked it at the moment. His eyes were starting to play tricks on him again. The old man's features were slowly transforming into what he imagined his brother would look like at that same age. What he would give to just touch his lover again – to kiss him…

"Mabel and Dipper are still asking about you." Stan eventually added, once again destroying what Bill's mind was making him see. "Maybe you could talk with them. Just to tell them you're okay."

But he wasn't okay.

"No." Bill refused quietly.

"Why not?" Stan demanded.

"They're smart. Smarter than most of you meatsacks." Bill pointed out, "They'll piece everything together if they find out that we've been spending the last few months together. We can't have that. They'll try to stop us. It's better this way."

"You won't even give them a sign?" Stan sighed, defeated.

Bill shook his head and bit his lower lip. The sound Stan had just made when he spoke…it had been so close to how Ford sounded when _he_ was discouraged. His heart ached at the thought. He hoped the machine would work so desperately. He didn't know what he was going to do with himself if it didn't. Perhaps this was why demons oughtn't love. He had always been told it was a mistake mostly because all other sentient creatures were inferior, but only now did he discover how destructive it could be. No physical pain could ever compare to the torment he was experiencing.

The machine _had_ to work.

What he wouldn't give to touch the love of his life again…to kiss him and to—

"You think about him a lot, don't you?" Stan asked softly.

The old man was awfully chatty at the moment. The demon reckoned it was probably because he was worried. He had to admit that it was strange seeing Stan so concerned for him. He assumed it was because they were both in the same vulnerable state or something of the like.

"All the time." Bill admitted, tearing his gaze away from the machine, "I see him…sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Stan frowned.

"I'll be working, lifting some heavy piece of metal to add on to the machine," Bill explained, "And from the corner of my eye, I'll see him standing on the ground. But, whenever I look, I find that he's actually not there."

Stan looked like he wanted to say something comforting but opted for silence and a sad, sympathetic smile. Bill was surprised to see he wasn't angered by that. One of the reasons he insisted on not talking to the twins was because he didn't want their pity. He thought it would make him feel weak and pathetic, but when Stan did it…he felt better? Less alone? Maybe it was because he looked so much like Ford. Despite the age difference brought about the stunting of Ford's aging process, so many of his facial features resembled his. They were hidden behind wrinkles and time but now that Bill was this close and was really taking a good look at his face, he could see how they had once been identical twins.

What he wouldn't give to touch _that_ _man_ again…to kiss him and to become one with him. To be submerged in complete euphoria as they committed the most intimate act a human could conceive to display their undying love to their partner. It was very primal and barbaric of them, but Bill understood the significance and he loved the physical pleasure so much. The whole experience was intoxicating. What he wouldn't give to—

"Bill?" Stan asked, snapping him out of it again.

His heart was beating rapidly. What had he just been thinking about?

"What?" The blonde returned.

Why was he breathless?

"Is something on your mind?" Stan questioned, "You've been looking at me… _weirdly_."

He frowned and met Stan's eyes. For a brief second, time seemed to stop. The look the other man was giving him conveyed so much. Bill knew he knew where his mind had wondered off to when he had zoned out. He saw the same desire that was slowly building within him as well. The silent and unspoken agreement of indulging in it was also very flagrant and it was what set him off. When time seemed to move again, Bill threw himself at the other man, pushing their mouths together in a rough kiss. Stan fell back a bit, barely catching himself in time. They kissed feverishly but the contact was void of any true intimate emotion. It was only the manifestation of deep sadness and grief brought to life by Bill's desperate desire to get the man he loved back.

He climbed into Stan's lap and grinded their crotches together as the other man gripped his waist and guided his movements. They moaned into each other's mouths as the tension between them rapidly built and the grinding became insufficient. Bill needed more. He needed to feel the burning pleasure of sex overwhelm his body like it did whenever he did it with Ford and Stan looked so much like him – especially now.

The demon teleported them back to Stan's room. They landed on the bed with an "oompf!" which hardly did anything to interrupt their ministrations. He pushed the older man against the mattress and gave him one last, long kiss before breaking away. Bill sat back, grinding against Stan's building erection as he tore off his shirt and tossed it somewhere in the room. He helped the other man take off his own shirt, then moving back in for another kiss. Their lips moved together desperately. Bill opened up to allow the other's tongue to venture in and take control. It was insane because he kissed the same way Ford did. He almost believed he truly was with his lover.

 _Almost_.

Stan flipped them over, pinning Bill beneath him as he rolled their hips together. He managed to pull a wanton moan from the demon's lips before muffling any other sound by pressing their mouths back together. He took off his pants and eventually helped Bill out of his, never once breaking their desperate, senseless necking. The moment they were off, the demon was desperate to be filled. He needed to be fucked; every fiber in his body was screaming for it. He bucked his hips to gesture what he wanted and Stan soon understood his wordless plea.

"I'm going to need something—" he started but no sooner had he said so that Bill conjured a bottle of lubricant. "Thanks."

The older man coated his fingers with the viscous liquid and brought the first digit to Bill's entrance. He initially teased at the ring of muscles to loosen him up before pushing in his finger all the way. The blonde threw his head back and groaned loudly. He felt more sensitive than he had ever been before. And the more Stan pumped his finger in and out of him, reaching in as deeply as he could, the more Bill's mind was clouded by the overwhelming lust and yearning he felt coursing through his body. The bliss even began to play tricks. All he saw when he was looking at Stan was Ford – Ford with silver hair and scruff on his chin but with all his charm and good looks from his youth intact.

"Nngh—Stan—!" He moaned out and wiggled his hips.

"Don't worry, I've got you." He replied.

The man added a second finger and slowed his movements to allow the demon to adjust. He spread his digits in a scissoring motion to stretch the muscles so as to facilitate the insertion of a third finger. The stretching burned in the most subtle and pleasurable of ways. But none of it was enough. Bill thus reached between his legs to begin pumping his hard cock as he allowed the other man the time necessary to prepare him properly. His actions caused for Stan to grunt, the sight of the demon pleasuring himself so shamelessly was obviously doing something for him.

But when Bill looked up and was met with Ford instead of reality. _Ford's_ pupils were blown wide with desire. _Ford_ liked his lips eagerly and faltered his movements, distracted by the sight of the demon. _Ford_ was the one who was above him and touching him like this. It was _Ford_ and no one else.

"You pervert." He teased with a cheeky grin.

 _Ford's_ response was to angle his fingers for his next thrust to hit Bill's prostate head on. The burst of pleasure had his body trembling in delight as a filthy sound passed his abused lips. The following thrusts were specifically aimed at that special spot and the demon quickly lost his hold on his cock, opting to clutch at the bedsheets beneath as his desire to be overcome with ecstasy was finally being fulfilled. He didn't even feel the third finger enter him; the pleasure suffocating any amount of pain. Bill was almost about to cum from nothing more than that when the three digits were finally pulled out.

"Ugh—hey!" He whined but was immediately silence.

 _Ford_ lifted his hips from the mattress with one hand and guided his cock to his entrance with the other. Bill sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers weaved into the blanket in anticipation. Slowly, the man eased his hard on into him. _Ford_ pushed in all the way until he bottomed out. He seemed like he wanted to give Bill a chance to adjust but the demon had other plans. He bucked his hips gently albeit eagerly to encourage the other to begin moving already.

"A-are you sure?" _Ford_ stuttered.

"Yes, come on—!" he practically begged.

 _Ford_ opted not to argue. He pulled himself out gradually before moving back in. He continued at his slow pace for a while, pausing to add a bit more lubricant to help with the fluidity of his movements. Once everything had gotten good enough, the real fun started. The pace quickened and the thrusts were perfectly angled to smash right into Bill's prostate. The pleasure that had nearly gotten him to climax before was returning in full force. He moaned and shouted as he was pummelled into the mattress just like he wanted.

The bed moved with Stan's sharp thrusts – except it wasn't Stan anymore; not to Bill. _Ford_ was the one taking him roughly and yet so damn perfectly. _Ford_ was the one pinning him down with his body and driving Bill mad with his cock. _Ford_ was the one slamming the bed against the wall as he fucked him mindlessly hard. It was all Ford.

"Ahn! _Stan_ —" Bill gasped, clutching the man above him.

The coils in his gut were beginning to build again. He wouldn't even need to touch himself to cum, the merciless abuse of his prostate seemed to be far more than enough. The demon hooked his legs around the older man's waist and leaned into each of his thrusts. _Ford's_ movements quickly became erratic and lost their rhythm as he too began approaching his limit. Their moans rapidly got louder and more desperate. Bill was struggling to think and maintain his grasp on reality. Stan was just a far off memory replaced by Ford.

"Ahh! _Stanford_!" He cried out one final time and spilled his warm seed hard. The white substance painted both of their stomachs.

 _Ford_ came a thrust later, filling Bill up to the brim. He pulled out almost immediately after and collapsed next to him, breathing hard. The two laid next to each other, breathless, sweaty, and dirty. With a quick snap of the fingers, the cum was gone but dread and regret were beginning to set in. Their panting made way for a shameful silence and both were immediately uncomfortable. Bill glanced to the man next to him who refused to meet his gaze. It was Stan. Stanley Pines. _Not_ Ford. _Not_ his lover. _Not_ his Sixer.

"This was a mistake." Stan eventually said. "We disrespected Ford—"

"We're both not well." Bill said evenly, "This meant nothing. Let's just forget it ever happened. Sixer doesn't need to know."

Stan obviously wrestled with the morality of the decision. What they had done was blatantly wrong, though whether it was truly cheating was up for debate. A debate Bill didn't care to have but that Stan was visibly having in his mind at the moment. He was probably thinking that if the blonde had done this with anybody else, he would have told his brother in a heartbeat. Matters were different now seeing as Bill had done it with him instead. The anger and betrayal Ford would feel if he ever got the chance to tell him would likely ruin him. They would both lose him again but in an entirely different way.

"Okay." He finally agreed.

And they never talked about it again. They continued on like nothing happened; like they hadn't fucked out of sadness and grief. They continued working on their machine to bring Ford back because that was all that mattered.


End file.
